Newsieisms
by X-Scree Scree-X
Summary: Jack has left and the fight over Manhattan selling territory has sky rocketed. Spot and his alliances are backed into a corner when three other newsie leaders join forces to overpower them. Co-written by xXEmiShaeXx


**Welcome one and all to Newsieisms! I'm sure the name made absolutely no sense to anyone! This first chapter actually was just an assignment in our AP European class on the three main "Ism's" for the Renaissance:  
-Individualism: **personality, uniqueness, one's capabilities and talents.  
**-Humanism: **emphasis on human beings, capabilities. Chiristan perspective.  
**-Secularism: **basic concern with here and now, material things, buy things for a comfortable life, leisure time.

**Because Emi and I are very much in love with Newsies... we came up with this! We both gave ideas for this chapter...but the next one will be written by me! Three of the newsie "leaders" are based on these isms. Take a guess! Questions? Just ask!**

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**Newsieisms**

**Co-written by X-Scree Scree-X and xXEmiShaeXx**

**Chapter One; Negotiations**

"I don't care what you say! With Kelly gone, the territory was free! Why not take it myself?"

"Because it's not logical, Rost- why should you get the rest of Manhattan when either Midtown or even Harlem should get it?"

"Fine, then give it to Nothing- he's under my control, 'member? So either way, I win Cross. You jus' can't accept that, can ya? You're just so-"

"That wasn't what he was saying Rost, and ya know it!"

The argument had started hours earlier- and it wasn't an exaggeration. Arguments over territory and selling turf was never settled with a couple of words- nothing was ever that simple.

The table that the six of us sat at was cut in two- on one side was myself, Spot Conlon, infamous leader of the Brooklyn newsies, Cross Wilt, the strangely compassionate leader of Queens, and Pike Miller, an expressionless, yet fair teenager who ran the neighborhood of Harlem.

Across from us sat Nothing Rochester, the emotionally unstable leader of Midtown, Grin Boyle, a quiet, young boy who shouldn't have even gotten dragged into this, no thanks to his leader passing the honor of leading Staten Island only a few days before the feud, and Rost Finn, the power hungry, maniac of the Bronx, who began all of this by taking over Manhattan with force once Jack Kelly was out of the way.

"And so what if it wasn't?" Rost had sprung to his feet by now, knocking his flimsy chair over and slamming his fist onto the wooden table.

I had to give the kid credit. He was young, barely into his teens by the look of it. Like Grin, Rost had had his responsibility thrown onto him without a moments warning, but instead of leading his boys kindly, with a stern fist and nice words for everyone, he was sour. He had been born with the passion to rule. The short, mousy brown haired boy didn't live up to his appearance, of that I was sure.

Once the old leader of Manhattan had gone off to pursue a better life, leaving the Manhattan Newsies without a leader, Rost had taken it into his hands to take the selling territory over. Of course, he wouldn't be able to do it on his own. Manhattan wasn't huge, but they had allies, like me for example.

So off he'd gone, going from borough to borough, looking for some allies. He'd threatened most of us, but I saw through them. They were half empty threats. The kid didn't know what he was doing, and I didn't think he'd get too far with his plans.

For once, I had been wrong.

Rost had easily taken over Midtown. Nothing Rochester had been a good friend of his for years, and hadn't really liked being under Jack's reign anyway. He'd do anything to spoil his territory. So, after handing his territory, newsies and, pretty much, himself over to Rost, they began their way over to Staten Island. They just about beat those poor boys into submission- join or die. Most hadn't had a choice and chose to join, while a few brave others stood up against Rost and Nothing. They were silenced.

It was a bad time in New York, but arguing wasn't going to solve any of it.

I stood up as well, towering- although that was surprising, given my height -over the younger Rost by a few feet.

"Ain't we civilized enough to keep our voices down inside?" I scowled, glaring over at Rost, my eyes narrowed.

I could feel a bit of electricity lighting up between the two of us- but it must have been visible to the rest of the boys, because Cross was the next to speak.

The gangly, long dark haired boy stood up as well, his carved wooden cross slipping from his shirt to dangle from his neck as he leaned over the table, staring the both of us down. Both he and Pike Miller had silent personalities that were piercing, even without words.

His stare brought the tension down, and Rost and I sat down stiffly.

"The rest of you may not know yet, but Rost-" Nothing's tongue clicked at the st sound, a sickening noise that caused me to clench the top of my cane that rested at my side "-has been told Manhattan belongs to him... by God."

Everyone at the table froze.

What a load of crap.

I saw Cross sit up a bit straighter, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously.

"You honestly expect us to believe you, right?" He asked dangerously, his long, messy bangs momentarily hiding his sight.

"Would I lie?" Rost smirked, leaning back and folding his arms in front of his chest.

"You stupid child, bringing the Lord into this argument? What on Earth did you think we'd do? Surrender? Bow to your every word! You're a sick little demon if that's what you think!"

Before we knew it, Cross was leaping toward Rost, crawling over the table at the younger boy, his fists balled up, ready to place a few hits to Rosts face.

Lucky we were quicker.

Both myself and Pike grabbed Cross' arms pulling him back toward his seat. Thankfully, he decided not to struggle.

The most sickening part was that Rost hadn't moved a single centimeter when he was being charged, as though he thought he was invincible.

Arrogant jerk had a bigger ego than I did.

"You're a monster, you know that?" Cross mumbled once he had sat down, his hazel eyes glossed over, "You beat your own newsies into submission- even other boroughs-" He pointed toward the small, red headed Grin who recoiled back into his seat at the jerking movement "-and you expect us to just give in and give you Manhattan, one of the most powerful boroughs of New York?-"

"It was only powerful because of Kelly."

He had a point there. Before Jack "Cowboy" Kelly, there wasn't really a powerful borough, although Brooklyn was definitely near the top. Jack had done something none of us had ever thought to do before: fight back.

We newsies sold news papers on the street corners; there was a morning paper, sold to those on their way out to work, and afternoon paper, sold to those coming back home. Well, that was pretty much our entire day: get up, find something to eat, go to the distribution center to get papers, sell them, find something to eat, go to bed, repeat. But Pulitzer, the owner of The World news paper, had decided to raise the price from 50 cents for a hundred papers to 60. Such a small increase meant a lot to every newsie in New York, especially because if you couldn't sell all your papers, you had to "eat" them.

Well, Jack went on strike, right then and there, refusing to let anyone buy and sell papes from Pulitzer, and soaked 'em if they did.

In the end, we managed to win. The price wasn't brought back to normal, but we were allowed to sell back whatever left over papers we had at the end of the day.

Because of him, we won. Because of him, Manhattan was on top. But all of the turmoil was because of him as well.

Not more than year after the strike, Jack decided to fulfill his idea of leaving for Santa Fe, and in turn took his girlfriend Sarah, her parents, older brother David, and young brother, Les, who all assisted in the strike, with him. Once that happened, Manhattan was never the same.

No one would step up to be leader- the shoes were too big to fill. Racetrack might have been able to do it, maybe even Mush or Skittery, but when the option was offered, they refused.

It seemed only like yesterday Jack was leaving his boys, tears in his eyes as he made his way toward his dream.

I never forgave him for leaving, and I don't think any of his boys did either.

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**What do you guys think? We'd love some feed back from all of you!**

**~Till next time!**

**Scree and Emi!**


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